


Getting Better, Together

by jellyryans (ryankellycc)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: ALL OF THE CLASSICS, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Flower Shop & Tattoo Parlor, Banter, Established Relationship, Friendship/Love, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day Fluff, and there's also a bakery?, except it's more like plant store and a mention of a tattoo shop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-27 15:28:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17769389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryankellycc/pseuds/jellyryans
Summary: Written forEnnofor Valentine's Day!While he sweeps the floor of a plant store that's not even his, Yaku wonders why a simple holiday is so complicated.





	Getting Better, Together

The sun had gone down hours ago, but lamps from the adjacent businesses softened the February twilight that threatened to trickle through the large antique windows and touch the surfaces with its inky fingers. Above him, leaves spilled over the sides of hanging pots and the varied shades of heart-shaped green were haloed by the lamps’ gentle golden hues. 

Yaku looked around the vining plants and through the glass at the familiar building across the street. It also had big windows, but its face was painted. Feathery filigree lettering and blood red roses beckoned onlookers inside his tattoo studio, where he’d worked at for almost half a decade. 

He would never admit it, just like he’d never admit that it wasn’t actually a secret at all, but he was also intimately familiar with the view from behind those painted roses. He spent so many agonizing years peeking through the studio’s windows while he waited at the reception desk, glancing across the street on the occasional cigarette break, and pausing just for a moment with his afternoon coffee outside the door. 

At one point, spying on this plant store, the very one in which he stood that evening, was one of his greatest, and guiltiest, pleasures. He couldn’t help that it was such a beautiful space, bursting with vibrant colors and bustling with customers, and if he caught himself searching for one apron-clad staff member in particular, that was his business. 

Not that said staff member ever needed to know exactly how much time Yaku had spent ogling him. 

He tapped the platinum band that hugged his ring finger against the handle of the broom resting against his shoulder. 

A sharp twinge at the base of his neck interrupted his introspection and he winced as he rolled his head back on his shoulders, trying to ignore how his muscles strained unpleasantly under his skin. He was sore from tattooing variations of small hearts on so many arms, shoulder blades and ankles that he’d lost track about two hours into the day. In the end, their Valentine’s flash event had ended up a success. Mindless money. Good tips. The enticing prospect of respectful return clients. 

He might not have been able to complain about his work day, but he could be annoyed. 

Yaku tapped his ring again and thought of its partner, a larger platinum band with matching black inlay, which was nowhere to be seen. despite the pain in his wrists that would require a good deal of ice and rest, he gripped the broom with one last tap of the metal against wood and went back to sweeping up the stray leaves, cut ribbons, crumbs and rogue bits of perlite at his feet. 

The plant shop didn’t sell cut flowers, so they hadn’t been as busy as the small stand down the road, but there were plenty of bare spots on the small tables and stands that surrounded him. 

“You don’t have to do anything, Yaku-san. You don’t even work here.”

Yamamoto emerged from the door that led to a small staff area with a large cardboard tray, overstuffed with plants obviously meant to fill those empty spaces. If it were anyone else, Yaku might’ve said something about the way the plants jostled with each heavy step, but the guy hefted bags of flour for a living and could probably bench press his entire person, so Yaku let that particular thought go. He choose a different way to admonish his friend. “You don’t work here either.”

Yamamoto set the tray down, adjusted the plants that had fallen over and shrugged. “I worked here today.” He pointed at a small piece broken from a decorated sugar cookie. “And I deffo helped make the mess so it makes sense that I lend a hand, y’know.”

“You might not have to do restocking duty if the actual manager were here,” Yaku bristled. 

Suspiciously quiet, Yamamoto just nodded as he chose plants from the tray. The small potted cactuses looked odd in his wide, calloused palms. It threw off the scale, like either Yamamoto was a giant with a regular-sized cactus or he was a regular-sized person and the cactus was a crafted miniature meant to adorn a table in a dollhouse. He held one aloft and smiled brightly while pretending to pet it until Yaku stopped scowling. “You want one? I’m sure Ken won’t mind.” 

“Absolutely not,” Yaku said, shaking his head. “We have so many houseplants that I can’t even eat my breakfast at the table anymore.”

Yamamoto’s chest shook as he laughed. “Yeah man, I hear you. ‘Cept with us it’s cookbooks. But we just eat on top of ‘em, like they’re mini tables.”

They laughed together before lapsing into comfortable silence. Yamamoto continued to move plants and Yaku swept someone’s store, letting his mind wander in time with the back and forth of bristles on hardwood. 

It was likely that Shibayama was sweeping his studio across the street at the very same time. Cleaning was expected of an apprentice and he definitely didn’t need anyone looming over his shoulder, but Yaku still felt a dull pang of guilt for not being there.

“Need this?” 

Yaku blinked at Yamamoto holding out a dustpan. He hadn’t even realized how big his pile had gotten and took it with a nod. 

“I think Kuroo-san’ll be back soon,” Yamamoto said mostly to himself. “Ran out of here like a tall-ass bat outta hell as soon as the last customer left, like he’d turn into a pumpkin!” 

“What do I care?” Yaku said, hoping he managed to sound miffed. It was hard to stay mad when Yamamoto laughed. No matter how small the comment or joke was, he expressed his joy with his entire body and it was contagious. 

Yamamoto snorted, but the voice that responded to Yaku’s question came from behind the register, accompanied by the clink of change against the plastic cash drawer. “You cared enough to start sweeping while you waited.” 

Yaku didn’t have to see Kenma to know he’d just rolled his eyes. It was anyone’s guess whether he was reacting to Yaku’s stubbornness or Yamamoto’s sense of humor. 

“I thought you would care, you know, with your manager running out on you right at close after a busy day?”

“He’s the boss! Well, not my boss, technically, but still. You gotta be able to trust the boss.”

Kenma shrugged. “And he promised he’d close all next week, mop the floors on Saturday and run to the flower market for Kai on Monday morning.”

Yaku finished sweeping the pile of debris into the dustpan before studying them both carefully. Kenma’s eyes were trained on the register computer as he clicked through the closing procedure and Yamamoto leaned on the counter next to him, thumbs stuck in the cotton candy-colored apron with the name of his bakery across the bib.

“You guys know something, don’t you?” Yaku asked.

The effect was instantaneous. Yamamoto’s back straightened like a current had just rippled through him. Kenma’s reaction was less noticeable, but Yaku knew him well enough to notice the way he shifted his eyes just slightly to the left. 

“Where did that asshole go?”

He was met with silence but had to give Yamamoto credit for at least trying to school his face into a neutral expression. Even still, he looked like he’d bitten into a lemon. 

“He’s not actually planning something, is he?” The only sound in the store was the swipe of tires on the wet pavement outside as cars drove past. Yaku sighed in defeat. “Damnit.”

Yamamoto rested a hand on his shoulder. “Y’had to have known he’d do something. And you’re not exactly, uh...”

Yaku thought back to all of the breathing exercises he’d tried and failed to incorporate into the way he processed stress. The siren call of his baser instincts was usually stronger than his will, however, and frustration blurred the corners of his vision. “But we agreed, and I specifically told _him_ not to do anything,” he hissed. 

“I’m not saying that I know anything,” Kenma clarified, his voice barely heard above the clink of the coins he dropped back into the register. “But you guys do this every year.”

Kenma didn’t have to elaborate for Yaku to know exactly what he meant. 

He and Kuroo had been married for almost a year, together for much longer, and they still hadn’t figured out how to celebrate Valentine’s Day. 

They’d gotten a reservation at a fancy restaurant and were crammed in with the rest of the couples, practically having to eat off each other’s laps when the restaurant decided it would be a good idea to split their tables so they could fit more reservations. The next year, they attempted a casually home-cooked meal and had ended up with the fire department at their apartment and a broken oven. They tried over-priced shows and weekend mini-breaks ruined by the weather and sold-out movies and going out friends who were more interested in complaining than enjoying themselves. The holiday had always been a disaster, full of drama, broken kitchen appliances and empty wallets. 

It was why he’d wanted to orchestrate the holiday in order to avoid extravagant plans, and he _thought_ the decision was mutual.

“Which is exactly why we agreed not to plan anything,” he voiced aloud. “You guys didn’t make any plans either.”

Yamamoto looked to Kenma, who nodded subtly. “Well firstly,” he said, putting everything in his hands down so he could use them to accompany his words. “I got to work with my boyfriend all day which was awesome. Kuroo-san came up with the idea to sell cookies and flowers together today, by the way. SUPER cool of him,” Yamamoto added in slyly, waggling his eyebrows. “Secondly, we technically already celebrated Valentine’s Day so today’s just, like, a normal day.”

“What?” 

Kenma filled in the till count on their register clipboard and didn’t look up as his pen scratched the paper. “He got me chocolate and we went out to dinner last week.”

“Yeah! We usually do holidays on different days ‘cuz of the crowds. It’s kinda awesome, less pressure to do all the mushy holiday stuff and more time to focus on each other.”

The only response Kenma had to his enthusiasm was the light dusting of blush across his cheekbones and, from the way Yamamoto bit back his smile, he’d achieved the desired effect.

Yaku remembered the way Kuroo had to sit down when he found out they were dating, how he’d clutched at his shirt and moaned about being the last one to know that his childhood friend had been seeing someone without telling him while ignoring the fact that literally everyone else had noticed. 

“You’re smiling,” Kenma observed from the counter with his own lips quirked. 

“No I’m not.”

“Sorry Yaku-san, you def were,” Yamamoto said unapologetically. “We’re not judging! If I had a hundred yen for every time Ken and I caught each other smiling at something over something cute, we’d never have to save up for another game. There’d just be giant piles of money lying around everywhere.” 

He tried to hide it, but Yaku caught the smile that spread across Kenma’s face before he turned away with the cash and escaped into the back room. 

“See what I mean?” Yamamoto said, slinging his arm around Yaku’s shoulder. “The guy’s literally going to kill me someday, or steal all of my money?” He scratched one of the shaved sides of his mohawk. “I forgot where I was goin’ with that to be honest.”

Yamamoto wasn’t a tall guy, only a handful of inches taller than him, but he was built like a brick house. There were nights when he and Kuroo had wondered if Yamamoto would sink to the bottom of a pool if were thrown in, and now that weight was bearing down on Yaku’s shoulders, he thought all of Kuroo’s hypotheticals were entirely possible. 

Kuroo picked that moment to reappear.

“Oh ho ho? Looks like I missed snuggle hour.”

Yamamoto didn’t flinch, his arm still wrapped around Yaku’s neck. “Kuroo-san the man! There’s always room for you!” 

Yaku used Yamamoto’s boisterous reaction to his husband’s entrance as a distraction and slipped out from under his arm. Kuroo smiled wide and swooped into the empty space. They hugged for a solid minute before breaking up. 

“That was seriously fast, dude,”

“Did you doubt me?” 

“Not even for a second,” Yamamoto replied jovially, though his smile dropped slightly when Kuroo stared him down and made a small gesture toward the back of the store with his chin. Yamamoto cleared his throat. “Right, uh, I’ll leave you two alone to…” He looked to Kuroo for the word, but he just shook his head. “Just talk? Right.”

He gave them both a thumbs up before disappearing, leaving Yaku alone with his husband. It was becoming increasingly more difficult to be annoyed when Kuroo was surrounded by twinkling lights and vining plants like he’d just stepped out of paradise. 

“You’re not going to ask me where I was?” Kuroo teased.

Yaku stood his ground. “You mean where you were when you were supposed to meet me here? Definitely not.”

“You sure?” 

The way Kuroo pouted when he didn’t get the attention he thought he deserved should not have tugged on his heartstrings the way it did, and it definitely shouldn’t have forced Yaku to take a deep, steadying breath to stay strong. “Stop pouting.” 

Like a mime, Kuroo gestured to his mouth with his free hand like he was manually wiping the expression off his face, and Yaku noticed for the first time that he had a small paper bag that he’d been skillfully hiding. 

He knit his brows and pointed at the bag. “I thought we weren’t planning anything?”

Kuroo didn’t miss a beat and gasped. “How am I just noticing that I’ve been carrying a bag this whole time?”

“Shut up and answer me.”

“I don’t know why would you think this,” Kuroo said as he held up the bag, “Is part of a plan?”

“Oh, I don’t know, because it’s freaking Valentine’s Day?”

“So?”

“And Kenma and Yamamoto didn’t say you _weren’t_ planning anything.”

“Did they really say something?” Kuroo let a hint of disappointment slip into his voice. 

“Not outright,” Yaku conceded. “But there’s red tissue paper sticking out of the bag.”

“That’s not proof of anything. You like red!”

“We’re married, it’s the fourteenth, you asked me to come over when I was done at the studio and now you’re standing in front of me with a froofy bag and being cagey about it,” Yaku said, crossing his arms across his chest. “What am I supposed to think?”

“Okay, so we did agree not to do anything today,” Kuroo confessed, pausing for dramatic effect as a sly smile took over his face. Yaku considered adding his own brand of drama by stepping on his foot but held back with Herculean effort. “I guess I’ll have to take it back...”

“Just give it here already,” Yaku snapped, lunging for the bag and swiping it from Kuroo’s outstretched hand. He pushed clumps of garishly decorated tissue paper out of the way until his fingers clasped a handle made of molded plastic, still cool from having been outside. Ignoring the crumpled wrapping material that fell to the floor, he found a black plastic cat. It stared at him, eyes round and wide, and Yaku hated how its dumb grin matched the one on the person who gave it to him. He hated more how his heart soared into his throat and how he couldn’t stop his face from flushing. But, just as soon as the heat pricked over the skin of his cheeks, his face fell with realization. “This is a watering can.”

Kuroo shrugged, somehow still smiling, and Yaku eyed the thirty other watering cans around the store, the ones that Kuroo had hand-picked to sell to customers. 

“Please don’t tell me you left your own plant store to buy a watering can from a different plant store.”

“Maybe.”

“We have three watering cans at home already!”

Kuroo finally had the social grace to look sheepish. “But look at it,” he cooed. 

Yaku took a closer look at the monstrosity. He supposed it was cute in its own way, not unlike the way Kuroo was cute when he ogled his own bed head in the mirror or insisted on calling their very common houseplants by their very specific scientific names. 

“It’s a good thing I’ve got unique taste,” he mumbled, slotting himself against Kuroo and wrapping an arm around his waist. 

“I’m a lucky man,” Kuroo agreed. He dragged Yaku closer and Yaku allowed it, lured by the sincerity in his voice.

“Heya, Yaku-san!” Yamamoto appeared in the doorway with a small pink box. “Just finished cleaning up before we head out and realized I left your order in the back. Whoa!” He said, pointing at the watering can that now hung loosely in Yaku’s grasp. “That the watering can you told me about! Oh man, this is too good.”

“It sure is,” Kuroo laughed, and Yaku felt the laughter reverberate in his chest. He tried to nuzzle further into Kuroo’s jacket like he could hide himself completely in the folds of fabric. Kuroo pulled back slightly. “Yaku-gun, husband mine, why would you have ordered something from Yamamoto’s bakery on this day-that-shall-not-be-celebrated?”

Yaku ignored the taunt but extricated himself from Kuroo’s absurdly long arms so that he could yank the box out of Yamamoto’s hands. He muttered his apologies in the same tone he told him to scram and shoved the box at Kuroo. “For you.”

“But I thought we _weren’t doing_ Valentine’s Day,” Kuroo joked as he opened the box. His lips parted when he looked inside. “Oh.”

He lifted one of the cookies from the box and blinked rapidly, twisting and turning it in the air like he had to see it from every angle before he’d believe it was real. “But they don’t make cat-shaped cookies.”

Yaku’s throat went dry just as Kuroo’s eyes shimmered. He coughed. “They’re custom. I, uh, picked out the cutter a while back.”

“It takes a week for custom orders, and you said-”

“Shut up.”

“But Yaku-gun!”

“You’re one to talk!”

“I am talking,” Kuroo whined. 

Yaku inhaled deeply. He was still holding the watering can and Kuroo cradled the small box of cookies to his chest like a dragon might hoard its gold. 

There was something about the way the small pink box looked in Kuroo’s hands and how the color stood out against his black sweater. Or maybe there was something in the way the plastic cat watched over them from Yaku’s hand with its ridiculous grin, or how he knew that it might take the rest of their lives to figure out how to handle something as infuriatingly simple as Valentine’s Day.

They’d get to spend the rest of their lives figuring it out _together_. 

Suddenly, he started to laugh, the huffs soft at first and then gaining volume as he let peals of laughter fill his lungs. He dug the heel of his palm into his eyes to wipe the tears that threatened to fall down his face and then, without warning, grabbed the front of Kuroo’s jacket to pull him down until they were face to face, and kissed his husband. 

Their lips met with the ease of familiarity, and Kuroo nipped Yaku’s lip with his teeth before disengaging. “I take it you love our new cat friend.”

“Him too,” Yaku replied breathlessly.

Kuroo’s eyes widened momentarily before he closed them and pressed his lips to the side of Yaku’s mouth and he leaned into the touch. Yaku soaked in the heat that radiated from Kuroo’s body and the soft puffs of his breath on his skin. For the first time in recent memory, he verbalized exactly what he was thinking to the man he married. “Let’s adopt a cat.”

Kuroo’s breath hitched and he pulled away to evaluate the seriousness of Yaku’s statement. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Where’s this coming from all of a sudden?”

“All of a sudden? We’ve been talking about it forever.”

“But why _now_?” 

Yaku raised an eyebrow and jerked his chin toward the box of cookies. “If we get each other any more cat-themed gifts without actually having a cat, people might start to talk.”

Kuroo nodded solemnly. “You raise a very valid point. We certainly wouldn’t want the _people to talk_.”

“And if we get a cat out of it,” Yaku continued his line of reasoning. “We can say we finally got one Valentine’s Day right.”

“Whoa now, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. The night is still young!”

“No.”

“I didn’t even say anything.”

“You didn’t have to,” Yaku said.

Kuroo took the hand that wasn’t occupied by a plastic cat and kissed Yaku’s wrist. He sputtered. “The night is young enough for us to go home, dig your ice packs out from the back of the freezer, eat all of your cookies and browse adoption websites.”

It took a big person to admit when they were bested by their opponent, or wily husband in their case, and although Yaku liked to think he was that person, the words escaped him. 

“Let’s go home,” Kuroo said, filling in the silence carved out by Yaku’s unspoken gratitude. He picked up the tissue paper that Yaku had dropped, plucked the watering can from Yaku’s loosened grip and placed it in the bag with the box of cookies. 

“Finally,” Yaku groused. 

They both turned when they heard Yamamoto’s laughter. He stood next to Kenma, who leaned on his shoulder. They had their coats on and the lights were off behind them. 

“I don’t think I can watch any more of this,” Kenma murmured. 

“C’mon Ken, it was super sweet. Just a couple of dudes bein’ guys…”

Kenma paled. “Please don’t finish that-”

“Just a couple of guys bein’ dudes!”

Kuroo shepherded Yaku under his arm and kissed his temple. “Just a couple of dudes being gay!” He said, unable to finish the line without stuttering laughter. 

“I can’t believe I’m going to spend Valentine’s Day on my couch looking up how to divorce my husband,” Yaku spit, striding forward. “The day we decide to get a cat and I’m already a single parent!”

“But you love me!” Kuroo called after him.

“And I want my cookies back!”

“Never!”

Yaku got to the door first, but Kuroo’s strides were longer so he caught up before Yaku could open it. They struggled side by side, trying to get out of the door before the other, until they both spilled into the street and warmed the winter evening with their laughter.

**Author's Note:**

> Enno, hope you liked! It was a wee bit intimidating writing for someone who is super talented and is such a Presence but I hope this brought you a least a little joy and love and fluff and happiness on this holiday that is meant to celebrate all of those things in whatever way you can. <3
> 
> And thank you (all) for reading!! Happy Valentine's Day! Try to show yourself some love and then pass it along to those you care about! I mean always do that, but also today. 
> 
> Extra stuff! This [watering can](https://global.rakuten.com/en/store/osyarehime/item/56566605/) exists. Sorry world, but this [vine](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1aYVFbgvRNw) still cracks me the heckity heck up. This one shot was inspired by a customer of mine who legit works at a plant store across town and bought an animal shaped watering can for his boyfriend. I manage a plant store so I've avoided this type of AU but I've also been haunted in the best way by [THIS ART](https://priintaniere.tumblr.com/post/175793242449/had-the-chance-to-draw-kuroyaku-from-my-tattoo) so here we are. My story differs from their [AU](https://priintaniere.tumblr.com/post/174191135835/me-i-dont-like-tattoo-artistflorist-au-brain) a bit so you should check it out immediately and send Riin lots of love.
> 
> Finally, the biggest, snuggliest, warmest thank you to [Effy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/isntyet/pseuds/isntyet) for swooping in like a hero in the night to beta this story. These days all we have are words but none of them feel like enough.


End file.
